The Dartboard of Discards
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: Tossed up into the dartboard: An alternate scene for Is it Too Late part 8, and an alternate to Honor to Serve, Dahlia's Protectors.
1. Worst School Best Results

_**Author's Note:**__ The following is a short that I'm tossing out. For a while I considered this as a possible start to a particular story, but after due consideration, went another way. Looking at the discarded scene file, afterwards, though, I thought it was something I had to share. It is not a complete story. Consider this the start of a collection of tossed out scenes and scene fragments that just didn't fit when I was writing something else. There are a couple more short scenes of the like that I might toss out with this one. Originally I posted this with the first fragment's title, but I've decided that my original description of what this is the best. This is the Dartboard of Discards  
_

**Worst School Best Results**

"It's a travesty, I tell you, Griselda," an old man with a gray streaked brown beard said from his portrait. "Hogwarts employs some of the worst teachers, and is by far the worst boarding school in all of Europe, if not the world, yet somehow manages to keep turning out the results. Snape has to be the worst Potions professor I've ever had the displeasure of observing, yet somehow his NEWT class turned out two thirds Outstandings, and the highest amount of them adjusted to student body ever, this year."

"Oh Soterios, it can't be that bad," Griselda said, looking up from where she was taking her tea. It was a special blend that she had recently discovered during a rare foray into the muggle world. It was a shame that so many of those bookstores had gone to add coffee shops instead of good old fashion tea. "Snape was taught by Professor Slughorn, and he was quite the professor."

"Snape is nothing like Slughorn," Soterios said. "I've been watching both since they started their careers at Hogwarts. Slughorn was always a bit cloying, but Snape lives up to his first name instead. In one would I'd describe his teaching methods as severe. He rarely explains himself. Quite often his classes are little better than lab watched over by an overseer with a tongue that is a sharp verbal replacement for a whip.

"It was just past December that I witnessed him berate a first year for his potion being just barely past ripe when he added the lacewings. The poor girl was in tears. Judging from the tests, the potion may have actually turned out better than usual, not that the Gryffindor will ever find out!

"That man also has a regrettable tendency to favor his own house in the worst of fashions. The worst part of it comes with his public fawning of his Slytherins. I've yet to see him say that they've done anything wrong, sort of when they manage to blow up the lab. And Merlin help any Gryffindor. They won't get any assistance from him."

"That's strange. Last year the entire Gryffindor class got Outstandings on their NEWTs," Griselda remarked.

"Well, it was certainly not due to Snape!"


	2. Early Ritually Yours scenes

DartboardOfDiscards02

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_**Author's Note:**__ With _Ritually Yours_ wrapping up, I thought I'd toss a few discards from the early work on the story. Some of these scenes were tossed early, with very little proofing. Some got a bit more work, and almost made it into the story. All of these were written before the posting of the first part._

**First Scene Written: Nine and Three Quarters**

_This scene won't be used, but it was the scene that started me thinking on the story. It was written in sort of a free write period where I basically wrote down any scene that came to my mind._

Hermione pulled out her wand. "Episkey," she ordered, and Harry's bloody noise stopped bleeding. Her father had punched him right after he had helped her off the Hogwarts Express "You deserved that, you know."

"Hey! It's not my fault!" Harry replied, as Hermione wiped the blood off his face. "Would you rather I hadn't rescued you?"

"It's not the rescue I have problem with, it's what came after," Hermione said, as Harry stood back up. "Not that we even had the fun that normally causes this."

"I know, I know, we're both still virgins," Harry said, helping the seven months pregnant first year up. "At least I didn't rescue you from a dragon in a ritual circle. Then you be having triplets."

"There is that," Hermione said, looking over at her parents. "I think Mum's done lecturing Dad. Let's go home."

Harry took her Hermione's hand as they walked out of King's Cross Station. His first year had been hard. He'd defeated a troll, made Hermione his concubine, played Quidditch, and stopped Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's Stone. He'd spent way too much time in the Hospital Wing. Worst of all, Dumbledore had told him why Voldemort was after him. It scared him. However, at least two good things had come out of it, Hermione and he no longer had to live with the Dursley's.

Though, he hoped that Mr. Granger's punch got out all of his frustration with Harry having gotten his little girl pregnant

**You Stole Her Towel**...

_This scene was written while I considered how Hermione living in the same dorm as the boys might work. I eventually decided that I needed to work on some restrictions, and this scene found it's way into the bit bucket as a bit too much to fit under the structure I built afterwards. There a few other things I changed that are present in this early draft as well._

Harry Potter was not sure about how things were going to go with Hermione. It had been a couple days since she had been moved into the wardrobe and became his concubine after Madame Pomfrey discovered that Hermione had become pregnant due to what they were both calling the damned ritual circle. He was sure about one thing though. His roommates were going to regret stealing her towels.

"Who stole my bath towel?" Hermione said from the bathroom door. She was completely naked. Her hair was dripping wet, slicked down instead of it's usual nimbus of curls. She held her wash cloth to cover her crotch, but her pert breasts were open to all the boys' visions. Of course, since her other had held her wand, whose tip was already glowing red, that wasn't possible.

Harry gulped at his concubine's display of anger. He quickly retrieved his own towel and tossed it to Hermione. She dropped the wash cloth in order to catch the towel. "Thanks Harry," she said. "Now find mine before I come back."

"Now which of you jokers stole Hermione's towel?" Harry said. He first looked at Ron, as he was the closest, sitting on his bed. "You know that she doesn't want you staring at her."

Ron caught Harry's gaze. "Don't look at me. I'm not that curious about what a girl looks like. Hermione's scary, brilliant, but scary. Plus Ginny doesn't wear anything during the summer."

"Seamus?" Harry asked turning to the next boy.

"It's like Ron said, she's scary man," Seamus replied. "Not sure I have the courage. Especially after she threatened us with disembowelment that first morning."

"Dean?" Harry said, turning to the next boy, who appeared to be furiously sketching, while sitting at the foot of Neville's bed.

"Hold a moment, I've got to finish this," Dean said.

"Dean, did you steal Hermione's towel so you could sketch her nude?" Harry asked.

Dean looked up having finished his sketch. "Ah, yes," he admitted.

"She's going to kill you," Neville said, from his position at the head of his bed. "Where did you put the towels?"

"Under my pile," Dean admitted.

Harry got up off of his bed and retrieved the towels. "I don't know what she's going to do to you, Dean. I'm probably not going to stop it either." He detoured briefly to Hermione's wardrobe room, and picked up her slip. "And Neville, I know you were in on it."

"It was his idea!" Dean said.

"All I said was that most artists do nude sketches," Neville said as Harry reached the bathroom door.

Hermione met Harry at the door, Harry's towel around her. "Thanks Harry," she said. "Dean, I want to see that sketch." She took her slip off the top of the towel stack and shut the door again.

"I am so doomed," Dean said, looking down at the picture.

"Yes, let's see how doomed," Hermione said, coming back out of the bathroom. She wore only her slip, which went down far enough, Harry judged, not to be too much of a problem. It was cream colored, and in the light of the dorm, at times, he'd not been able to judge where it started. She seemed to float over to where Dean was seated and pick up the sketch book. She turned it this way and that. "Actually, it's not that bad. Quite good. Still, you should have asked, so ..."

Harry didn't hear the spell that Hermione uttered, but he saw the effects. Dean's clothes melted off his body to the floor. Dean's hands immediately went to cover himself. Hermione had an expression that Harry had never seen on her. She was smirking. "Hermione, that's enough," Harry ordered.

"He'll have to put it back on," Hermione said, looking down. "Disappointing. Oh well." She yawned. "Bedtime, I think. Don't stay up too late studying for the transfiguration test tomorrow, boys."

"Guys, if any of you try anything like that again," Harry said as soon as the wardrobe door closed behind his sleepy concubine, "I'll have her do the spell on all of you, in the Great Hall. Understood?"


	3. There be Wales Here

ThereBeWalesHere

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Title: There Be Wales Here

An alternate third year idea

Summary: In Harry Potter's third year, one of the new first years, in a very large year, is a boy going by the name of William Rothesay. His introduction to the Wizarding World does not exactly go to plan, and Minister Fudge may regret some of his decisions.

...

Minister Fudge gulped when his receptionist told him that a lady in a powder blue dress, with matching hat and handbag was asking to see him. He had heard about her last visit, and knew exactly who she was, even if his receptionist, along with most of the wizarding world, didn't. He had no idea what prompted her visit, but when She visited, it wasn't good news.

"Send her in, right away," he ordered, making sure the best chair was sitting in front of his desk.

He stood as she entered. She didn't take a seat. That was a bad sign. He nearly jumped when she wandlessly closed the door from several paces away. It slammed shut, and sealed tight. There would be no escaping the Queen.

"One wonders if there is such a thing as intelligence in the wizarding world," the Queen said, pulling a letter out of her handbag. "Placing dementors around a school, in order to catch an escaped prisoner, a prisoner who escaped from them, leading us to question their competence on their home ground, much less unfamiliar territory, was bad enough, but letting them search an already cleared train holding children ... Do you realize just how close you came to disaster with this action? Disaster that would have been impossible for you to hide from the rest of the world?

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have done it in the first place. This letter is from my grandson, who happens to be a newly sorted Gryffindor."

"Please convey my congratulations to your grandson on starting Hogwarts in my old house," Fudge said, trying to fill the pause the Queen had made as she opened the letter.

"It is our impression hope that William's house has improved, over when it produced you," the Queen said, causing Fudge to pale and gulp. "He writes '... shortly before arriving at Hogwarts, the train slowed to allow the Ministry of Magic to search the train with Dementors. The Dementors swept down the corridor, leaving frost on all the glass, and spreading fear and despair through all my classmates. It felt like you were never going to be happy again. They apparently entered the cabin next to mine, and attacked Harry Potter, causing him to faint. If it wasn't for Professor Lupin, who cast a spell that drove them off the train, I'm sure that there wouldn't be a soul left to reach Hogwarts...'

"We expect a full investigation into the lack of control over the Dementors that you are ultimately responsible for, including the decision to use them in a search of a train full of children. A train that was completely searched, and monitored all the way to Hogsmeade station by the Black Watch ... as agreed upon when it was decide that William would attend Hogwarts."

She put the letter back in her handbag. The Queen then turned, the door opening before her. "Do not provide a reason for our return. Oh, and the kiss on sight order for Sirus Black is revoked. We do not kill on sight subjects who have not be tried."

The door slammed shut again, as soon as the Queen cleared it, leaving Fudge to slump down into his chair.

...

It was not often that Harry was stopped by a first year. He, Ron, and Hermione were about to leave the Common room when the blond first year boy, stopped.

"Excuse me, you're Harry Potter, right?" the boy, who Harry couldn't remember the name of, but seemed somewhat familiar.

"Yes, and you are?" Harry asked.

"I'm going by William Rothesay," the boy replied, taking a sealed muggle-style envelope out of his robes. "Grandmother told me to give you this, as soon as possible."

Harry took the letter from William, and said, "Why would your grandmother want to write me?"

"I think it has something to do with the train," William offered. "At least that's what my letter from her last night was. Excuse me, now that I've done my duty to Queen and Country, I better get my books for this afternoon."

"Weird kid," Ron offered as they walked towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Wonder who his grandmother is."

"I don't think he is weird at all," Hermione said. "And it's obvious who his grandmother is, once you know who he is. Using that last name is not going to fool anyone."

"Hermione, you're barmy," Ron replied, as Harry turned over the envelope to look at the seal. "Rothesay isn't a well known name. It's not a noble house or anything like that. Why would anyone use it."

"Honestly Ron, we're in Scotland, which means William's father goes by the title Duke of Rothesay here," Hermione said. "It's a perfect name for him to go by in Scotland."

"I'm still not getting it, Hermione," Ron replied.

Harry looked closer at the seal, before reaching into his potion's kit for a knife to break the wax with.

"How could you not recognize William?" Hermione asked. "He has to be the most well know eleven-year-old in the UK. Harry, you at least recognize who he is?"

"I really didn't look at him closely, Hermione," Harry said, before pulling out the letter inside the envelope. "Of course, this letter gives it away. I don't think he wants it spread around though."

"What about the letter?" Ron asked. "Whose it from?"

"It's from Her Majesty, the Queen," Harry said. "Apparently she's been trying to get in contact with me."

"Queen of what?"

"Really, Ron, you can't be that stupid," Hermione began, "the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and all her other Realms and Territories, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith."

"Oh, that Queen," Ron said, his expression saying that he really didn't get it. "What's she writing you for, Harry?"

"The Queen wants to talk to me about my duties in Surrey."


	4. Is it Too Late? Alternate Part 8

_**Author's Note: **The following scene was rejected as part of Is it Too Late? This was due to it getting too dark and going in a direction that I didn't want it to. It has not gone through full betaing. It would have been the last scene of part 8, Responsibility._

* * *

[Cut scene begin 8B]

"Harry, we've got a problem in the charms corridor. Hermione and I found Romilda Vane curled up on among broken armor. No one can get near her. I left Hermione there with her, and Ginny's on her way."

"Right, how many doors down from Flitwick's Office?" Harry asked, standing and not bothering to wipe the juice from his lips.

"Six, towards Ravenclaw Tower," Ron said, as Harry vaulted over the table. Minerva rushed around the side.

"The passage behind the portrait of Ethelred the Unready, then," Harry announced. "It's a Friday, so it should go right next to where she is."

With that, Harry broke into a run. Minerva didn't know were the portrait of Ethelred was, so once he was out of sight, she continued the way she knew at as at a fast of pace as she could. She envied her colleagues' youth sometimes.

* * *

Harry Potter had once thought that Hogwarts was a safe place. Mostly, that was true, if you weren't being sought after by Dark Lords, werewolves, dementors, and other assorted dark creatures who practically laughed at the illustrious Hogwarts wards. To be perfectly honest, without his presence, there were not many reasons that any creature or person capable of going through Hogwarts wards like paper would even consider attacking the school.

As a Professor and Head of House, Harry had learnt of a whole new set of problems with the safety of students. They were problems caused by students and their parents. He hadn't exactly been surprised about Elizabeth Waters, but her case had given him some nightmares about what Vernon might have done to him, had he been the Girl-Who-Lived. Elizabeth was showing now, when she wasn't in her robes, and seeing that had given him a nightmarish recreation of his sorting last night.

Harry and Ron emerged from the secret passage, exiting from behind the picture of Edward, Second Marquess of Worcester. Hermione was there waiting, apparently having handed over her robes, leaving her in the white blouse and gray skirt that the girls all wore under it. Happily for Harry, Hermione didn't hike up her skirt or shirt. He didn't think he could stand Hermione suddenly devolving into the mass of insane females in his class.

"Professor Potter," Hermione began, immediately alerting him to how bad it might be with her tone and address. "We're going to need to call the Aurors. Someone is going to be imprisoned for this, or worse expelled."

Harry had to briefly smile at Hermione's priorities. "I'll let Professor McGonagall decide that," he stated. As he approached were he assumed Miss Vane was. Hermione had transfigured some room dividers to block off part of the hall. As he stepped around them, he spotted Miss Vane. The fourth year was clad in Hermione's robe. Her ripped clothes were still beneath her trembling form. Ginny was next to her, with her arm around her fellow Gryffindor.

"Romilda?" Harry said softly, kneeling down next to the shaking girl. She looked up into Harry's eyes. Normally her dark chocolate eyes were sparkling with life, but now they were muddy holes, surrounded by the dark trails of her torrent of tears ruined make up. She seemed to have sunk inside of herself, and at Harry's approach, she had pushed herself back against the wall. In her hands was a clip on Ravenclaw tie. "Romilda?" he whispered again.

Suddenly the girl was in his arms, he tears flowing down her cheeks, her whole body sobbing, as he held her. "He wouldn't listen. He wouldn't listen," she repeated over and over again.

Harry had to learn to hug, once he started visiting the Weasleys. It still wasn't the most comfortable thing for him, sometimes. Still there were times when he really needed a hug, and Harry was sure that this was one of those times for Romilda. He gently wrapped his arms around her, and whispered into her ear. "I'm here to help you." Her tears redoubled, as she burrowed in closer, sobbing.

As the sobbing tailed off, he asked. "What happened Romilda?"

"He said I was a slut, and he was going to take what I was offering. He wouldn't listen. He ripped it all off. He wouldn't listen. He was going to do it. He wouldn't listen. He wouldn't take no for an answer..." Romilda broke down into tears again.

Harry continued to hold the girl, letting her cry. McGonagall had apparently arrived already, and was kneeling beside Harry. Hermione had just finished whispering something in McGongall's ear. The Deputy Headmistress picked up the Ravenclaw tie that Romilda had dropped when she had found Harry's arms. "Mr. Weasley, go to Professor Flitwick. Have him bring Mr. Samuels to my office. The Aurors will be meeting us there. Miss Granger, I have second years due in my class in twenty minutes. Please walk them through turning beetles into buttons while Professor Potter and I handle Miss Vane."

"Ginny, I've got fourth year," Harry said, as Romilda seemed to press closer to him. He could hear Ron's pounding feet as he rushed off. "Run them through the accuracy drill your class did a couple weeks ago, and collect the assignment on unforgivables."

"Miss Vane, you need to go the Hospital Wing," Professor McGonagall said. "Can you walk, or do you need to be carried?"

Romilda trembled, and pulled a way. She closed Hermione's robes tight around her body, but not quick enough that Harry didn't have time to note that she was naked under them. "I think I can walk," Romilda said hoarsely. There were bruises on her shoulders, and a welt on her forehead.

"Ginny, who was supposed to do the count last night?" Harry asked.

"Garreth," Ginny said, naming the seventh-year boys prefect. "oh, he was in the Hospital Wing last night."

"We start a checklist tonight," Harry said, as they began to walk toward the Hospital Wing. Both his and the Transfiguration Classroom were on the most direct path. "I want to make sure everyone is in by curfew."

Romilda was still trembling as she walked. Hermione put her arm around her fellow Gryffindor as McGonagall walked in front of them.

* * *

_As you can see, this scene is dark, and out of my usual tone of stories, really. Well, maybe not too far out of it, considering _Chantilly, Five Lashes. _ That being said, I decided that it was going in the wrong direction, lopped off the scene to where I thought things went wrong, and rewrote. It fit my criteria for the Dartboard, so here it is._ _There may be a second Dartboard piece later today. It will be a lot lighter.  
_


	5. Dahlia's Protector

**Dahlia's Protectors**

**_Author's Note_**_: I was looking at _Honor to Serve_, trying to trying to figure out how to get it started again, when the muse decided to drop this idea._

_ As you may recall, in Honor to Serve, I gave the Dursleys a reason to mistreat Harry by having Warden Macnair kill their daughter, Dahlia, at just over a month old (33 days) about three weeks before Harry was dropped on their doorstep._

_ So I was thinking on the family dynamics, and noted that Vernon seems to focus on Dudley following in his footsteps. Then the muse hit._

_ What if instead of killing Dahlia, Macnair killed Dudley? Now the dynamics change, just a bit. Vernon is not going to go on about Dahlia going to his school. Harry isn't Dudley, but he is a boy, and not having the focus on father son things with Dudley, might be just a bit of a switch? Might he consider doing some things with Harry that in canon he did with Dudley?_

_ Dahlia is probably going to be a spoiled little girl, but she's also a year younger than Harry. He's effectively now her older brother. He's going to be told to protect her._

_ A magical Dahlia is not in the cards. That makes things too easy. It's also been done before, too many times (usually with the name of Daisy) _

_ Given every turn that my muse has just given me, I have Vernon who sees Harry as a replacement for Dudley, sent from a "grieving wizarding world" Of course, they were grieving over Harry's parents, but Venon sees things just a little bit different. Of course, Harry is no Dudley, being generally smarter. Then this scene occurred, and I had to send it off first to CaerAzkaban, and now to here._

* * *

It was October the thirteenth, and ten-year-old Harry Potter knew that his Uncle Vernon was to never be disturbed on that day. He always took it off from work, and would spend a good part of it at Saint Philip's graveyard. Harry would wait until Uncle Vernon had left before he came with his cousin Dahlia to the grave yard. If there was school, he'd do it as soon as he could get home and change. He'd started doing that when he was five, and Dahlia had joined him a year later, coming to Dudley's grave.

It was a daily stop in Aunt Petunia's routine, as long as the weather was good, but Harry and Dahlia didn't go there, not until Harry had decided that since he'd taken the place of his late cousin in the Dursley's household, the least he could do was to honor him on the anniversary of his death.

Dudley had died, jumping in front of his sister to protect her when some manic had attacked the family when they were shopping. He hadn't been even two years old, and Dahlia hadn't been more than a month old, but when the attack had ended, Dudley had been found dead, his body protecting his little sister. Harry knew the story well. Aunt Petunia had told it to him, and though he was dead, Dudley was still a presence around the Dursley house on Privit Drive. His picture had a place of honor on the mantle, and there was a small one on Dahlia's nightstand. Harry kept one on his dresser, right by the door, to remind him every morning to live up to Dudley.

Harry's parents had been killed by the same group of people who had attacked the baby store. According to Aunt Petunia, they'd died for him, and he better be worthy of their sacrifice. So, he protected Dahlia, especially from the bullies in his year like Piers Porkiss. And he honored Dudley.

Harry straightened his bow tie, before stepping out of his room and knocking on his cousin's door. "Dahlia, I'm ready to go, are you?"

"One moment, Harry," Dahlia said from behind the door. "Stupid hair clip!" The door opened, revealing Dahlia in her new black dress. She'd thrown a rather epic temper tantrum last week to get it, but Harry didn't blame her for it. It was satin and black lace, going down to her ankles. Her long blond hair was held back with various black clips, her favorite red bow being judged to be inappropriate for this day. She wore black gloves, and had a matching black handkerchief tucked into her belt, as the dress lacked pockets.

Harry took her arm, and escorted her down the stairs, calling out as he reached the door, "Dahlia and I are going to Saint Philip's. We'll be back by lunch." Aunt Petunia answered with a sob. October the thirteenth was not a good day for her. By the door were two flowers, lilies that Harry  
had managed to grow out of season in the conservatory attached to the back of the kitchen. They picked up their lilies and left the house, beginning their three block walk alone to the Church.

It was a walk taken in silence, a rarity with Dahlia, who was quite the chatterbox. Half way there, they passed the Porkiss House. Harry was a bit worried when he saw Piers stepping out the door, but sighed in relief when his little sister Portia, who was Dahlia's age, pulled her big brother back into the house.

Harry opened the iron gate to the grave yard, and found that Uncle Vernon was wiping off Dudley's tombstone. Harry and Dahlia stayed back watching Dahlia's father clean the stone, ever so carefully. It wouldn't be right for them to disturb him. Only when he was done, and retreated some distance from the stone to sit on a bench, did they move towards the stone.

Harry carefully placed the lily on Dudley's stone. Dahlia followed suit, as Harry stood before the stone and promised himself that he would be the big brother that Dudley couldn't be for Dahlia, even if he had to follow in Dudley's footsteps.

Just like last year, Dahlia kneeled before her older brother, who she'd really never know, and let her tears flow. Harry wasn't sure why she did that. Harry stood guard over his cousin, as she cried for her brother. She wouldn't accept comfort, not today. Her lips moved in silent  
confession, as if she was laying out her life before Dudley. Harry looked across the graveyard and spotted his uncle taking a sip from a flask as he watched his daughter kneeling before his son's grave. He nodded, and Harry returned his attention to Dahlia.

She stood, and Harry followed her, out of the grave yard and through a side door into the church. Dahlia moved into the first row of pews, and pulled down the kneeler. Only then did she wipe the tears that had flowed down her cheeks. She did the sign of the cross and then folded her hands in prayer. Harry kneeled down next to her, and silently prayed that he would  
have the courage to be as good as Dudley, who had given everything to protect his little sister. 

* * *

_There is a second scene written set way further along, that might appear in the Dartboard later. At this time I do not intend to make a Dahlia story. Of course, the muse may say other wise, depending on if she's fed._


	6. Dahlia's Protector: Blowing Up Marge

**Title**: Dahlia's Protector: Blowing Up Marge

_**Author's Note**_**: **_I told you there was a bit more of Dahlia's Protector out there. The muse gave ot to me not long after the first one, but today I cleaned it up a bit, and now present to you a scene of a different Dursley family, one where Harry is a protector of his cousin, not the target of said cousin. One where Dudley died, but his sister lived. In this particular scene we get a little pre-third year redo, that I found rather fun to write._

* * *

Petunia looked down with disapproval at the dog nipping at her daughter's heels. That was all it took for Harry to move into action, grabbing Ripper to pull the dog away.

"I'll put Ripper in the back garden, Aunt Petunia," Harry Potter said firmly, as the dog twisted in his hands, trying to escape. There wasn't much chance of that, as Potter knew how to handle the little dog.

"Nonsense, my little Ripper is well behaved and doesn't need to be put out of the house, boy," Marge said. "Put him down."

"He ripped Dahlia's socks, he goes out," Harry said with a glare that would cause anyone with any sense to retreat.

Unfortunately, Marge Dursley was not a woman with any sense. She struck Harry with her cane, causing the boy to drop the dog. Petunia knew this was not going to end well. Marge's visits never ended well. The woman could not get into her head exactly how protective Harry Potter was of his cousin. She also couldn't understand Dahlia. Harry was Dahlia's protector, and she knew it. Harry Potter was one of those supposed to be mythical knight protectors to Dahlia.

"Don't hit Harry!" Dahlia screamed at her Aunt Marge.

"Why shouldn't I?" Marge Dursley replied. "He manhandled my dog." She turned to look at Vernon. "A boy who manhandles dogs deserves a stroke or two. Ninety-nine percent of the time a problem with boys like him could be solved with a good beating or two. Where did you say that you sent the boy, Vernon?"

"Saint Hedwig's in Scotland," Vernon replied. It was a last minute decision to call Hogwarts that, as evidenced by the fact that the alternate name was the same name as Harry's owl. "He's a legacy through both his parents there."

"Do they use the cane at Saint Hedwig's?" Marge asked, as her dog found its place between her feet.

Harry looked to the ceiling. "Yes, all the time," he replied quite sarcastically.

"Excellent. I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. ... Have you been beaten often?" Marge asked.

"Really, you think schools can get away with that, today?" Harry shot back. "You are an idiot."

"Respect elders your elders, boy," Marge said, striking Harry again with her cane. "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. I wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on my doorstep. Especially with your tongue. Nothing like your son, Dudley was. There was a healthy size boy, and pardon me for mentioning the late little tyke, but he looked like he was going to grow up to be a proper sized man, like his father. This one's got a mean, runty look to him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Week, underbred. It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best of families. Then she ran off with a wastrel, and here's the result right in front of me."

"You didn't say that ... oh boy ... you did not say that about Harry's parents," Dahlia said. Petunia almost echoed her daughter, as she looked at Harry standing there, taking it, with his hands balled in tight fists. Something was going to blow.

"Go on, boy, proud of your parents, aren't you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash, drunk, I expect -"

"They did not die in a car crash!" Harry yelled in a surprising firm tone, as a light bulb blew behind him. Petunia knew that Marge had gone too far. She was going to have to dial the Magical Reversal Squad again, just like on Dahlia's fifth birthday. It was a given.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent hardworking relatives! You are an insolent, ungrateful, little -"

"My parents died so I could live, like Dudley died so Dahlia could live," Harry said, his green eyes burning as he looked right into Marge's. "I have spent all of my life trying to live up to their and Dudley's example." It looked like Marge was beginning to swell up, like a balloon. "You will not call me ungrateful." She started to raise from the floor. "I know what they gave up, better than you ever will." The buttons on Marge's blouse started to pop off. "You're just a bunch of hot air that doesn't deserve to exist in the same house." Ripper attacked Harry, biting at Harry's ankles.

Petunia watched as Harry back handed the dog, sending both Ripper and Marge out the door into the back garden. She looked around the room, and started to count the busted bulbs. "Who had seven?" she asked, in an attempt to calm her nephew down. "I really thought you'd get them all, Harry."

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, calming down. "I really shouldn't have let her make me blow up."

Vernon stepped over to the open door to the back garden. "I appears that you actually blew my sister up," he said. "She doesn't make a very good blimp. It looks like she's floating to the Northeast. Do you still have the number for those reversal people, Pet?"

"Of course," Petunia said. "I told you this would happen, Vernon. It always does." She picked up the phone.

"Yes, they'll reverse things, adjust her memory, and she'll back home for another year or so," Vernon said. "Price of having family. She's not bringing the dog again, though. Harry, get the first aid kit, Dahlia looks like she's bleeding a bit."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"When you're done, Pet, I'm calling animal control," Vernon said firmly. "I think it's time Ripper is put down."


End file.
